Onyx Chronicles: Vigilance
by Masterless
Summary: Onyx goes against the Vigilance of Stendarr to rescue a former comrade.
1. Vigilance I

I have prepared my stronger bolts just in case we were to run into some unexpected encounter. Skyrim is full of those and honestly, I'm astonished that not a single dragon or frost troll have come to decorate mine and Kharjo's endeavor. A pack of wolves did nothing to deter us from our path which, taken into consideration how much travelling I have done, the distance from Heljarchen Hall to the Hall of the Vigilant isn't very far at all, so running into very little problems isn't a far fetched notion at all. Though I have the feeling I will be running into problems pretty soon since I'm not on a jovial business meeting with the Vigilant of Stendarr members. The message I received in regards to this faction insinuates that a physical altercation would be inevitable. I could've abstained from accepting this, but considering that my rapport with The Companions still stands, I don't see why I shouldn't.

"It might be a trap, Dragonborn," With his steed stopping on its tracks, Kharjo gets off, setting himself on the ground before crouching. I find it peculiar that as a Khajiit he adheres to stealth but he dons a heavy dragon bone armor that is not the most adequate for preemptive tactics. "But I have a feeling that it doesn't really bother you if it is."

While Kharjo's armor doesn't spell sneaking tactics, Advark doesn't entirely help me if I am in dire need of stealth. The flames of this undead horse would warn enemies a few distances away. Though given most circumstances, I don't adhere to stealth as fervently anymore; I usually prefer if my enemies see me, but certain tasks require some allegiance to the shadows. This is one of those said tasks. As I slide off Advark, his existence retracts back to whence he came. I take note of Kharjo taking hold of his bow and I myself grabbing Avarice, loading a bolt and getting ready for a confrontation.

"The note had the gray fox's symbol on it," I say in a low tone as I crouch myself, hiding behind a tree while keeping my eyes on the small building that Stendarr's followers reside. Speaking of stealth, the black smoke starts to engulf me so that the magic of muffling my movement and camouflaging me is now activated. "It was an urgent message from one of their members that required my assistance."

"And you did not question it?"

"After the Nightingale incident, the corruption in the higher ranks of the Thieves Guild somewhat diminished. I have very little reason to question such an urgent message, Kharjo."

"Somewhat, you say?" I can't blame Kharjo for his tone of voice; after all, one of the three who holds the rank of Lady Night's warriors isn't exactly the most virtuous fellow in Skyrim. "From what the people have been saying, Dragonborn, the Nightingale has never been so tainted."

Part of me really wanted to entertain that thought since I am more than knowledgeable of what Kharjo is talking about, but the door opens and we both know that it wasn't the time for more trivial talks about opinions. Still hidden within Boethia's gift, I move slightly closer, now being mindful that a Vigilant has come out. With torch in hand, he scans the surrounding, probably watching out for someone like Kharjo and myself. I turn to my comrade who hides himself well despite the ivory tint of his dragon armor; I myself can conceal myself rather easily because of a few factors.

"Nothing, yet." He signals his comrades.

"Remain vigilant brother," Another one comes out, and he has mace drawn out. "They will come for this one soon enough."

I already knew who he was talking about since the message did mention that one of the reveled member of the Companions had been taken captive. Though I didn't quite believe the name written on the message, but having the visual not too far away from me refutes any sort of doubt I had. The Vigilants of Stendarr have indeed captured Aela the Huntress.

"I'm guihng fhu kihnnn ahnnn ufh uhuchfhnehch chuunhch!"

Being part of The Circle, Aela have always had a tough command presence; The Companions have no leaders but they do have some people to look up to and Aela is one of those figures. It's no wonder that even if she is being dragged on a chain leash, she still tries to keep her presence to its strong and fierce composure. Though I would imagine that being pulled like some pet with her hands bound by wrists and elbow isn't exactly helping out her cause one bit. The bar strapped on her ankles and keeping her legs shoulder width apart makes the simple task of walking quite strenuous from what I can tell. Keeping her uncomfortable is the idea so that she wouldn't be able to find a way to get back at them. Stripped of her weapons and barely keeping the modesty of her attire, which, she barely had honestly, but now she won't be really able to assist her bosoms from being revealed if for some reason, her 'modest armor' decides to malfunction any moment at all.

"Wehn I gehfh fceh! I'm guihng fhuuuuu-!" Her protest through her bit gag is cut off by an abrupt pull from her captor causing her to stumble. Not only is that gag meant to make her complaints incoherent, but it's most likely silver imbued with some kind of spell to deter her from transforming into her bestial form.

"Keep moving, creature! We have some ways to go."

Aela lets out another disgruntled groan through her gag as her captors have no qualms on making her work for every step. Wherever they are going, it seems that they are planning on making her walk; more salt to add on her wounded pride I suppose. I take a note of Kharjo who has the same thoughts as me: we need to find out what is going on before rescuing her. Though I'm sure if Aela ever finds out that I am taking my time to free her, she would attempt to give me a lesson in swordplay. Taking small steps, I ease myself forward, keeping close watch on how many others might be stepping out of that door. Dealing with six armed Bretons and Nords isn't going to be a problem considering I have Kharjo with me, but whatever unknown factor lies ahead, I'm not the biggest fan to face it without the best knowledge or course of action. Though given my record, the unknown factors are usually the things I tend to find. That or something else that is…

"AAAHH!" One of the Vigilants drop lifeless; an arrow of ebony material had piercesd through the enchantment of his robe.

"They're here! Gaa-_aaakkK!" Another arrow shot and this time right into the mouth.

With the two Vigilants dead, the others start to scramble, the one pulling on Aela drops the leash and retreats; strange for a Vigilant since bravery was always part of their code. I pay little attention to him as I keep myself aware of the arrows that are still firing. Judging from the consistency, it's only one archer, and this said archer is only aiming for the Vigilants of Stendarr.

"Dragonborn," Kharjo comes out of his hiding and releases an arrow himself at another Vigilant coming out of their hall. "The archer ruined our plan."

There was an obvious irritation in Kharjo's voice and I know it will only increase tenfold the moment he finds out who this archer is. Regardless, I fire a bolt, hitting one before rolling out of the way and reload. By now I'm making my way towards Aela who is glaring at me furiously, she wants nothing but her freedom given to her. The process of freeing her would be easier, but more Vigilants emerge from the hall. It appears that they have regained their number since the onslaught the Vampire Lords gave them. Each of them are also equipped with the infamous Dawnstar crossbows and they start retaliating fervently, forcing me to halt my rescue attempt. By now the Vigilants are now upon Aela, as if they are indeed protecting someone important to her. More or less she would be used as hostage, and she doesn't like that idea as she tries to convey that through words, which are obviously just mere grunts and growls. I fire another bolt, barely missing one of them before taking cover. Kharjo is across from me; he himself is taking defensive position as he readies his bow.

"Curse that archer!"

"You'll get the chance yourself," Right after the last word, the sound of hoofs hitting the ground echoes and a few more arrows are shot, halting the Vigilants' retaliation. I recognize the arrows… also the sound of that horse; Shadowmane. "The Nightingale sends their regards, it seems."

The horse that was once mine lets out her battle cry as she runs pass a few Vigilants, letting the rider get his shots in with his blade before going towards our general area. The rider, garbed in the black attire of the Nightingale, jumps off, letting the horse of the Dark Brotherhood vanish into the darkness of the distance. Sheathing his blade quickly, Judas, the newest Nightingale member, prepares his bow as well. If it wasn't for the hood, I'm sure Kharjo and I would be able to spot the pompous grin on this Khajiit's face.

"Glad you came, Onyx." The words are both grateful and also amused.

**To Be Continued...**


	2. Vigilance II

I took a few moments to stare at Judas; much like me the apparel he chooses to cover him also hides his face. Well, perhaps it's because the Nightingale's need to be conspicuous agents of shadow makes their uniform like that; regardless of that fact, I know he is staring at my eyes as I stare into his. That moment is interrupted as the Vigilants regroup and starts taking their shots at us. Kharjo rolls out of the way, Judas does the same but manages to release at least four arrows, I on the other hand summon Spellbreaker to repel the ones coming my way before retaliating with a shot of a bolt. Three of their archers fall to their death, and another injured badly, by now I have reloaded Avarice and running to the nearest available cover. Their formation regains their momentum and continues to fire waves of arrows, which of course forces us to stay on the defensive. Kharjo manages to shoot one before barely avoiding a few arrows himself.

"We must free Aela!" Judas is quick with the bow; just a single act of peeking out of his cover allows him to release two arrows that more than likely hits a target. His concern is hacking away at the numbers that are keeping Aela guarded. "Onyx, that is the main priority!"

"Surprised you care about anyone at all, thief."

I find it amusing that the first interaction between the two Khajiits is laced with some hissing behind the tone. Kharjo's qualms with Judas must have something to do with Khajiit honor, or something of the sort. I'm not entirely sure and I dare not ask for a few reasons; the main one being is that I just shot a bolt right into a Vigilant's throat. I quickly reload my crossbow as I keep in mind just how much protection seems to be on Aela. Of course the Nord woman isn't very happy with the fact that she isn't free to help her own situation. She has to depend on an unlikely assembly.

"I thought you travelled alone, Onyx," Not a lot of things impress me, but Judas' archery skill does. While saying those words, he was able to fire off a couple of arrows, decreasing the crowd that is securing Aela. "Where did you get this riff raff of a Khajiit?" Of course his opinion on my companions or any of my actions doesn't entirely get praise from me.

"Watch your tongue, thief!"

"Watch yours yourself, or these Vigilants will be the bane of you before me."

As if Khajiits didn't feel the pressure of being one of the minorities in Skyrim, here we have two fine warriors of their breed fighting amongst each other because of some tainted blood issue. To be frank, Judas is not a virtuous individual and I can more than fathom why Kharjo detests him, but to some degree, I am no saint. I don't bother with their bickering for more than enough reasons, but the main reason is that their problem is their own… I have this to deal with and I grow bored of long range dancing. Putting Avarice away, I take Muramasa out of its sheathe.

"You say Aela is our priority, Judas?"

"Yes, but so is surviving!"

"That's the easy part." I smirk underneath my helmet. "Keeping all three of you alive is the strenuous part."

The crimson blade lets out a deathly glow the moment I made the decision to get out of my cover. Of course my hospitality from the Vigilants are more bolts, which doesn't do much to deter my advance since I summon Spellbreaker once more. I keep the enchanted shield in front of me as I charge forward, meeting any deadly shot coming my direction. Calling forth the voice of the wind, I move forward, faster than their eyes can manage, which gives me the proper range I need to slam my shield into one of them, sending him flying backwards and giving me the proper space to plunge Muramasa right into his chest. His fate would be left to how much he can endure, the fatal wound will keep him out of my way as I dash towards the next few archers who are still preoccupied with the Khajiits. One falls from an arrow and the two who are left in this group doesn't see me coming. With Spellbreaker in lead of my charge, I swing my arm in a backhand motion, knocking a Vigilant out of his stance; the other one notices his comrade stumble but before he can truly react, I hack Muramasa right into his collarbone with the sharp edge digging through his robe, to his flesh, and into his bone. It takes mere moments until he drops his weapons and I am satisfied of his condition, which gets me to finally finish off the other one as he is now on the ground. I take my shield and slam the edge right into his head. The sound of an agonizing scream echoes momentarily before the sound of a skull being crushed took over.

"Ufh fuunh! Phihch ihch ah fhchahpf!" As I evade and block as much arrows as I can, I hear Aela causing an upheaval within the ranks of the Vigilants despite her bondage. Using as much movement as she can, the Companion woman attacks her captors, succeeding in at least riling them up and causing a small crack in their formation.

"Calm this beast!"

Though her attempts were quickly thwarted with one of them back handing her across her face, sending her to the ground rather awkwardly. Of course Aela tries to regain her stance, but bound as she is, she'll be staying on the ground, held up by the leash her assailant holds her with. Those eyes never stop glaring at her captor despite the situation; she is in dire need of a blade within those hands that are currently bound and helpless. With that thought, a few more bolts come flying my way and I raise Spellbreaker to once again protect me. Immediately after my defensive act, I retaliate with a shout, a relenting force that sends the majority of the Vigilants backwards. Many drop their weapons as they find themselves launched into the air, while some merely stagger back and causing their formation in disarray, falling prey to the arrows that the Khajiits fire at their direction. For the most part, the little group that are guarding Aela finds themselves confused, which gives me the exact moment I know I needed for this. I sprint again in the speed only the wind can match and immediately find myself within their circle, just in front of the helpless Aela.

"Ufh fuunh! Ufh chfehpfpfehn ihnfhu ah fhchahpf!" She strains even harder, muttering as much nonsensical things through the silver metal that is wedged between her teeth, her eyes wide with fear and anger as she keeps thrashing about rather awkwardly in her position. "Rehnehahceh meh! Kuihfknhu!"

The act of showing her bound hands despite how strenuous the gesture more than insinuates that a quick release is what she wants and needs. I motion my head towards the Vigilants that are still standing; of course that's me signifying that there is still some killing to be done. With Spellbreaker retracted back within me, I take Muramasa's hilt with both hands and immediately hack at the nearest Vigilant; the swing manages cut through two of them in vital areas, causing them to fall down with their fatal wound. Turning my attention to the one coming to my left, I take my blade and slash in an upward angle, cutting through his torso rather easily, and again more blood splatters on the ground. Still three more remains, one comes close from behind, the other two coming in as well, all three ready to beat me with their mace. I prepare Muramasa for another bloodshed, sinking my stance and feeling the rhythm of my next assailant's attack. Though something in the distance catches my attention: a horn of some sort. I take a moment to look down at Aela who is shaking her head fervently with eyes wide open.

"Kill them all now!"

One says from before an arrow takes his life; again Judas and nearly infallible accuracy. The one behind me comes, and I turn my body to face him and with my blade in lead, I take his head off, cutting through the hood of his robe, through the flesh, and bone, sending his head in a aerial motion before it falls with a thud on the ground close to Aela. I turn to the last one who is no longer capable to even stand with the arrow on his knee. His adventure and his life is over now as another arrow pierces his head; once again I compliment Judas within for such an aim.

"Ufh fuunh! Nuuh ihch nufh feh fhihmeh fhu pfeh ehnuhuuihng ufhch kihnnnch! RENEACE ME!"

Persistence like hers does elicit a bit of a reaction out of me that is obviously concealed within the face of my helmet. My body language probably does show a bit of my amusement, but I ease her up regardless with the intent of giving her the freedom that she is vehemently fighting for despite how firm her bonds are holding her hostage. Sheathing Muramasa slowly, I eventually pick her up and ease her to a stable stance before working on the gag that is wedged tightly between her teeth. I had a slight feeling that I would regret taking the damn thing off of her, and that feeling is correct.

"You foolish, arrogant, man!" The moment the metal left her mouth, a pool of drool cascades down, moistening her almost exposed bosoms. Again the concealed face behind the Masque helps my cause of not being considered a pervert. "Now is not the time to be taking your time! This is a trap!"

I'm not surprised, though her need to be redundant is understandable I suppose.

"I smell silver, Aela."

Judas shoots a Vigilant on the ground who was crawling for his life as he walks towards us. Kharjo remains very attentive towards the distance; I don't blame him for I sense them too. I don't necessarily catch the aroma of silver, but I can feel the presence well enough. A presence that is large in number, I would fathom.

"It's time to untie me now, Dragonborn!"

My attention reverts back to Aela who has a very impatient scowl on her face as she shows her bound hands, obviously demanding her release. I shrug my shoulders and comply, cutting her elbow ties first before proceeding to her wrists. As soon as freedom is hers, she diligently works on her ankle binds, which puts my attention back towards the distance where I can hear the cries of men and the heavy footsteps of their mount.

"What do they want?"

"What more would the Silver-Hand want, brother?" If Judas' ears can be seen through his Nightingale hood, it would be obvious it perked up from Aela's words. "Is it not obvious that our extinction what they yearn for?"

_Our, _she says. I know she speaks of her and Judas; it's been obvious to me that Judas has joined the circle a long time ago before he became one of Nocturnal's trinity, but it's also quite transparent to me that her words have a bit of venom towards me. She's insinuated that she is aware of my full _condition_ through her admonishing words of my 'scent'… though she hasn't truly stated it out just yet. Maybe she doesn't have to.

"Come now, Aela," Without even so much of a hesitation, Judas fires his arrow into the distance. I hear a wailing cry of pain in that same direction. "This battle is for my forte and not of … beast kind."

"You are a beast, Judas. Just a different breed hiding behind that mask."

It was almost like Judas was ignoring those words as he launches another arrow into the distance. Kharjo remains firm with his bow as well but he isn't anything like Judas when it comes to the art of archery; then again neither am I and Aela doesn't favor archery if she can help it, but she knows when it is useful. Right now however, Aela won't be using any sort of weapon that can be grasped by her hands; the moment she freed herself with her last bonds, she already had her mind set. Feeling the air around us thicken, I already knew that Aela summoned the beast inside of her. The transformation… I remember well… it starts with the inside shifting, rearranging itself, modifying, and altering the norm usage so that it would be able to support the bestial form. Then from there, the outside changes… the body starts to adhere to the nature of what is going on inside, it becomes bigger, leaner, it becomes a body far more durable than some of the lightweight armor available. Fur starts to pervade, claws on hands and feet extend, then the face becomes that of a murderous beast. Aela's strong beauty is no longer in view and as the werewolf that takes over howls into the night, the coming assailants let out a louder battle cry that looms over us like a cold fog. There will be an onslaught, that much I am sure.

The Silver-Hand is here to eradicate some of the Companions' strongest members...

It's a pity they found something far more than just Lycanthropy.

**To Be Continued...**


	3. Vigilance III

A Companion, a Nightingale, a Blade, and me: _The Dragonborn_. This assembly could be considered as one of those testaments that someone of my caliber has the ability to unite even the most peculiar combination of warriors in one desperate battle. That's a very honorable notion if you ask me, but truthfully, I'm not much for company. Kharjo I can tolerate to stand by my side since him and I have had more than enough share of bar to bar endeavors. Truthfully, never thought a Khajiit can make almost any woman in Tamriel fall madly in lust with him. Maybe it's the fact that he mentions that the 'Dragonborn' is drinking mead with him. In short, Kharjo is a fine person to drink with, and an even better fighter by your side.

"What's wrong, Blade? You have released less than a dozen arrows since you heard the hooves! Do you not know how to use a bow efficiently," Then there's Judas: A Khajiit whose forte in archery seems to be one of the best in Skyrim. "Or perhaps you fear the sound of real battle?"

"What was that, thief? You're anxious to see how many carcass you can loot when this battle is over?"

Kharjo is far from a cowering cat when it comes to undeniable odds like this situation, but Judas is Judas: instigator, pompous, and obnoxious. But even I don't deny Judas' usefulness when handing these kinds of battle. Taking a deep breath, I aim my crossbow and fire, taking another horseman off its course. I quickly reload and choose my next target. Before I fire, I glance at Aela who is now a Lycan. The first time I saw her in this form, I took note of her unique auburn like mane that contrasts the rest of her dark brown fur. I can't forget this form she adorns … not then and not ever. Every time I see it, I catch more details that truly allows me to spot Aela from a pack of Lycans if need be. Every time I see her fight, I can almost always recognize the sheer difference in strength she holds compared to average werewolves. Being part of the circle, she is one of the strongest Lycans in Skyrim… Good for it. We're going to need that extra strength with the numbers weighing heavily against us. She stands ready, the glazing black eyes staring attentively at the distance between her and the riders. Only a few more moments….

"Dragonborn!" I fire another bolt. My attention is somewhat directed towards Judas. The Silver-Hand riders are getting close. My hand itches to grab Muramasa as it remains stabbed on the ground waiting for my hand. "Can you not end this quicker?! Why do you insist on frolicking in the battlefield like you are some mere squire!"

Obnoxious as his words were, Judas is right. There are a myriad of ways I could turn the tide of this ambush, instead I sit here and play their game. As I reload Avarice, I hear Aela's first action take place as a Silver-Hand tried to get the best of her in horseback; the result was Aela's massive hand slashing the rider out of his horse. From there, Aela rushes forward with no mercy, pouncing on the next rider and mauling him with her gigantic sharp teeth. Looking to the corner, Kharjo has taken out the Mace of Molag Bal and his shield. The first rider comes at him with sword striking, which Kharjo evades and quickly retaliating by hitting the horse's legs, causing the beast to stumble and fall, leaving the rider prone to Kharjo's mace crushing his skull into the ground. The close range combat is Kharjo's element and his rhythm is now upon him as he starts picking out his assailants.

"You're right, Judas," I answer mockingly as I put Avarice on its holster behind me. "I can end this quicker. Fighting in fear from far away was never my forte. **_That's yours_**."

I don't waste a moment to listen to Judas' response to my barb; instead I grab Muramasa and run forward. Conjuring Arvak, I quickly jump on the undead horse's back and there I charge forward towards the small army. While I have had many encounters with the Silver-Hand, the last time we fought in great force was when the Companions and I came to avenge Kodlak, and that was some time ago… I was barely a Dragonborn… well, barely what I am now. Back then they were fighting a man climbing out of his weakness; now they face a juggernaut; the face of death that is grinning with delight at the sight of souls Muramasa is about to devour.

"Silver-Hand, remain vigilant! Destroy these-!"

Aela's colossal body came out of nowhere and ceased the man's sentence. What his fate was, I can only surmise as I heard screams of agony and Aela's monstrous howls. By now I reach my first rider and avoiding a swing from his mace, I quickly retaliate by slashing through his cuirass. The cut was deep and I can feel Muramasa's energy ascend so that one will succumb to his death soon. Another one comes with her own blade in tow, a quick parry leads to Muramasa slashing right into her weaponless arm. More blood drenching my armor, and more blood spilled as I continue to ride against the direction of the Silver-Hand. I ride against them like an unstoppable force, hacking, piercing, and brutally denying every rider that comes my way their distance. A great sword is my next dilemma and it would be too much to try and deflect, so I leap off Arvak to avoid such blow, and the moment of landing, I take out Avarice and shoot the assailant on his back. He falls off with an injury such as that taking its toll. Though now I'm on foot… the battle will be different for me. Without my mount, the odds are even worse for me, which doesn't bother me. I roll out of the way from another mace strike and immediately meeting another swordsman. I deflect his fearsome strike, causing him to keep going forward, and that direction leads to Aela who comes and finish off yet another Silver-Hand for me.

"Brothers, another beast!"

"One of the Khajiits is a monster!"

I barely hear the rest of the shouting as I continue to manage through the stampede of blades and hooves. Though the peculiar snarl of a much larger Khajiit insinuates that Judas has taken his form as well. I have cut through their numbers greatly, but the men they brought are plenty and perhaps Judas finally felt the pressure. He is great with the bow, but with this much of a close range fight, eventually he would have to call upon his Lycanthropy. I would fathom that Kharjo himself is faring well, but depending on how many more can be taken down from their mount, my fellow blade will be encumbered by the numbers that are still coming. With that thought, I rush forward, blade cutting through the coming danger; men and women fall off their horse in fatal pain or perhaps death. A blow from someone's mace causes me to stumble, but I repay in kind with a deep plunge of Muramasa into his side. That would be the first of many hits I would endure as I remain in battle in this rather disadvantageous position. I could _end_ this quicker than how I'm doing it. I could _take Judas'_ advice about my powers…

"Dragonborn!"

Speaking of Judas, the werecat pounces on a rider coming my way and fervently starts hacking away at the rider with his gigantic claws, ending the said rider's life in a messy yet quick way. A rider comes from behind of him and strikes him with his axe eliciting a painful growl from the Lycan. Acting accordingly to his pain, the werecat grabs the mount's legs and hurls both rider and horse backwards, causing them to topple through a couple of their comrades both in mount and foot.

"Arrows are sparse these days, Judas?"

The stampede came to its final riders and it is then that I finally get a moment to turn to face behind me and witness the massacre. Riders and their horses lay in waste, blood painting the snow, the injured crying for a quick end, screams of fear and agony as they witness either Aela or Kharjo who would take their last few moments without any mercy, and then of course the surviving riders are now on the opposite end. There are at least half of them left and the majority of them are staring at what used to be their army. Their spirit broken and fear is more than obvious even from this far. One of the horses crumpled from an injury it took and the rider falls with it. Victory seems to be ours and we are gaining it with blood and sweat; yet that is just the naked eye's observation. The majority of them may be broken for another round but there is obviously far more sinister plans boiling. They aren't attacking right away and it seems that they are observing us; I have a slight feeling that it has to do with the remaining riders that wasn't part of the first assault that wait patiently a distance behind us.

"This is but child's play to you," I turn to Judas whose monstrous form makes his words far less eloquent. Still rather prefer this voice than his other one. "So use your powers as a Dragon should!"

Aela lets out a growl that was meant to catch Judas' and my attention. Turning to her, the first things I notice are the darker spots on her fur, which I quickly gathered are her injuries from this battle. Weakened from her capture, Aela is for sure not at her best despite the transformation. Who knows how much more beating she can take? With a quick gesture of her head, she points to the distance to notify us of the remaining riders that I have noticed during the chaos. I take a chance to look at Judas whose dark colored fur camouflages injuries far better than Aela. The only real sign of blood on his are the blood stains on his lighter colored stripes; the other sign of his depletion is his stance. As a Lycan, he stands taller than Aela, and right now, this werecat is slumping in his stance due to fatigue and other factors. Kharjo is now resting some of his weight on his mace that is placed on the ground. Despite the exhaustion, he keeps his shield still high and covering most of his vital areas. There is still fight in him but as to how much that is pretty obvious to me.

Suddenly an arrow flew from a rider that isn't really aiming to hit anyone. It struck the sky and it dispersed into a flare like light. It's a pretty simple thing to decipher that it's a signal and any moment's rest is now taken from us. My companions in battle prepares while I merely think about the situation…. Though as I remain in my thoughts, the surviving riders from the previous stampede pull out their bow and arrows and start firing at our direction. The Lycans howl or evade, Kharjo uses his shield, I myself summon Spellbreaker, letting the hail of arrows pound on the enchanted metal. As soon as the first wave of arrows are done, another comes our way and from the opposite side, which Aela wasn't truly able to avoid really well as she howls in pain from a couple of the arrows hitting her body. From the reaction of her pain, I would assume they are silver. Another wave from the original archers… as the hail of arrows strikes and I cover behind Spellbreaker, part of me praises their idea: Keep barraging us with silver arrows from front and back after damn near stampeding us to death. A lot of resources are pulled for this ambush, and I fathom they expected the majority of the Companions to be the one that would rescue Aela, not myself, Kharjo, and Judas…. Though I would surmise that any Lycan that they slay is worth praise and slaying one of the Companions' main figures at that would almost make all the depleted resources worth it.

"Dragonborn!"

Another arrow manages to hit Aela and now her mobility is at risk. Judas' just took a couple of arrows himself on his arm and I can see the smoke emanating from his body due to the silver puncturing his fur. Kharjo is in the distance… his shield covered in arrows as well as some parts of his armor and luckily, none of his vital areas are hit yet. I have an arrow on my shoulder and another one of my chest; nothing fatal and the pain I barely feel. Silver does nothing to me. Not anymore…. Though if this situation perpetuates, I could lose this battle as well…. **_Perhaps it is time_**.

Taking a deep breath, I let my voice carry over to one of its mightiest shout. A roar so powerful that the skies above answers with the night clouds shifting so that the stars would be covered, the crackling of thunder, and the darkness becoming more ominous. What follows after these signs is the force of nature letting the rain pour with undeniable power, aggressive wind shaking the foundation of their formation, then of course the painful strike of thunder breaking them down to the ground. In disarray and completely overtaken by the storm I have summoned, I close my eyes inside my helmet, feeling the power that I submerge deep inside of me. I hear my heartbeat in the blackness of my mind, I feel my blood flowing like the rivers of Markarth, and I see myself changing into that bestial form that was bestowed upon me some time ago. My body distorting and the black smoke start to engulf my form… from my back I can feel the wings wanting to extend; wings that are an amalgam of bat and dragon. Bones shifting, flesh rearranging, and the energy within starts to boil… **_It truly begins_**.

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Vigilance IV

…. Body morphs into the ebony demon….

….Claws extend…

….The face of a Vampire Lord with horns as nefarious as Alduin's…

…The Wings are last and they rip from my back in their full-extended form….

….**Hunger**…

….My eyes can see every heart beat….

….I can hear their blood flow….

….I Sense their fear….

When the metamorphosis is complete, I remain where I am for a moment, hovering with undeniable power emanating from my body. Eyes were on me from both allies and enemies…. Fear… confusion… anger… those are the emotions I can sense from them. When foolishness finally called for the signal to attack, I let my voice pierce the air as arrows come flying my way. Silver will never harm me… nor will a normal blade. They pass me as if I am a ghost; hard to hit something that is made out of mist and bats; hard to hit something if they can't see me until it's too late. I appear in front of them... the fresh soldiers who didn't join the previous stampede. Before they can even react, from my hands I release a powerful force that eliminates a portion of them, and those that didn't get caught in the destruction fight back with their bows, but their arrows merely stop in flight with a gesture of my hand. I sense more fear… fear turning to dread. I know they realize their death. I hear their heart beating faster as they see their own arrows turn against them with a push of my hand. Each arrow that was meant for me took their target efficiently as they strike between the armor, finding the weakness in every soldier and causing fatal and excruciating pain. The rest of them are easily dislodged with a barrage of destruction spells that I omit from my hands. The spheres of fire and darkness causing them to either burn or fold from the force they hold. I let out a wailing scream at the remaining Silver-Hand; a gesture to announce the atrocity I will inflict upon them.

…I can hear their heart beating…

…Their Fear is a pungent scent… an aroma that feeds my incentive…

…Their blood exuding the feeling of their thoughts of wanting to stay alive…

…**My Hunger** can't be sated…

I extend my hands toward the fleeing men and two stop on their tracks due to the mystic binds that I have poisoned their mobility with. They fight with confusion, unable to grasp the idea that their movements are no longer their own, it's mine. With a thought, I pull them to me as I remain hovering; my senses continue to pin point their pulse… their fear… their blood. Within the confines of their helmet, their eyes implore for their life… their words are no longer mine to hear… their mouths moving without any sort of sound…

…My Hunger can't be sated…

…Blood…

…Fear…

…**_MY HUNGER_**….

I release one and leave him to a most likely crippling landing. Not long after, I plunge my open jaws on my prey, fangs in lead and despite her armor, I pierce my the razor sharp fangs on the side of her neck letting blood flow profusely as I drink. She fights as they always do. For a few moments they struggle and try to scream through the pain… they push, claw, thrash about fervently as they try to alleviate some of the pain they feel… but eventually they slow down. Every gulp… they slow down dramatically and soon after that, their eyes go blank and their fighting stops. They become almost lifeless and unable to even hold their own weight. I keep drinking to the point where they are barely alive… and that's when I know this one isn't enough to subdue my 'need'. Dropping the bloody carcass, I turn to the distance to get a glimpse of the others taking their share on decimating the Silver-Hand. They fight well now that the tides have turned, though it is still apparent that the battle has taken their toll and they are sloppy in action, at the very best they are desperate.

…**Hunger. HUNGER**…

The last remainder of the Silver-Hand still attracts my _need_. Their formation no longer adequate for their earlier tactic, but without proper attention, they can still cause enough harm with their silver arrows. With that thought, my body disperses into mist and bats. The effort of travelling next to the Silver-Hand who are shooting down my allies is effortless and unseen until it's too late. My claws pierces one in his throat and effortlessly hurl him out of the way so that I may dig my fangs into another nord who had a good aim. The moment I made contact with her neck, her blood rushed into my willing mouth and I drink with vehemence. She screams… she pushes… but her fight didn't last long. Her allies attempt to thwart my feast as they strike me with their arrows. Annoying pinches are all I felt and I turn to them with mouth agape, blood spilling and fangs in full show, some shoot at me while others take a few steps backwards. As arrows hit my body, I snarl at them in agitation. Extending my hand out, I control one of the archer's body with mysticism and hurl him to the others, causing them to drop their weapons and fall clumsily on the ground in pain. Not caring much for their next actions, I turn my attention to the bleeding nord in my grasp; she quivers in both pain and fear, though I would surmise that the excruciating pain of an open wound has taken over the majority of her senses. Though she won't suffer any longer…

**…HUNGER….**

… I plunge my fangs into her once again and feast upon what I have started and from there I don't stop. I keep drinking; I keep sucking the life out of her… experiencing every ounce of joy from this replenishment; this act proliferates my lack of inhibition… it curbs my hunger even if momentarily… I feel feral… Unable…

**… The carcass is out of my hands…**

**…I turn towards the rest…**

**…Fear….**

**…Fear…**

My wings spans out exuberantly behind me as I let out a shout into the pouring sky letting the last of the Silver-Hand know that death will be by their side soon. They take that as a sign and run as fast as they can. Some get past the two Lycans and Kharjo's wrath, but most of them don't. Those that do… their beating heart remains like a prominent hymn to my ears. I won't let them get away… not for what they have attempted… Not for what they will try in the future. That and I still have a hunger to settle. A hunger that has no bounds, it would seem….

I let out another shout before charging towards the remaining cattle…

**…HUNGER…**

_Drunken Huntsman_

The battle was a blur. The more blood I drink, the less I keep a hold of my 'humanity'. Everything that leads to me here in Whiterun's Drunken Huntsman is obscure… piecing it together causes a headache that I don't need right now. Taking my mug, I take another sip of my mead.

"My friend," I look over towards Kharjo who just placed his own mug down. "I have told you more than enough times about the events of the mission. Delving into it will not change anything."

"What an amusing thing to say. Do you honestly believe that I want to change something?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"Perhaps not, Kharjo," I took another gulp. "The battle was won. I have honored the request from the Nightingales and the Companions. The night ends with us drinking our share."

"Yes, indeed." Kharjo takes a glance at his helmet that still has bloodstains from our previous exploits. Licking his gloved hand, he rubs the spot with the blood until it eventually comes off.

"Will you return to Sky Haven Temple soon?" I ask.

"Yes. Esbern would certainly like to hear what kind of things the Dragonborn has been up to, and why the Dragonborn would take one of the more 'esteemed' member of the Blades with him."

Kharjo chuckles after that statement and I reciprocate with an audible 'hmm'. I was amused by his sarcasm, though without my helmet on my face, I make very little effort to show my amusement. With that said, I finish my mead and grab the Masque of Clavicus Vile and place it upon my head.

"Safe travels, Kharjo."

"I assume that you won't be visiting the Companions to receive the gratitude they owe you?"

"I shed a gift they bestowed upon me long ago. My kind is not welcome in their home."

"I see."

Wolves give Bats no such joy. An archaic rivalry between two creatures of the night seems to perpetuate in Skyrim. With that thought, I make my way towards the door.

"When you retrieved my mother's keepsake for me, you did so with great ease and discretion, did you not?"

I stopped on my tracks hearing Kharjo's words. Strange thing for him to bring up such an event in our past. Then again, I gained his loyalty for me through the favor of taking the Moon Amulet back from thieves… it means a lot to him, so I suppose it's only right.

"Yes."

"You were a different person back then. You had a lot of motive in everything you did."

"Riddles, Kharjo. I have no joy in deciphering riddles."

"If it's a trap, you used to be far more considerate of every factor. You would use every back door possible instead of barging in."

"Judas foiled our sneak attempt, not I."

"True, but there are many other ways to attempt this mission rather than sneak towards the front door of our enemies. It's almost like you wanted them to see you eventually."

"If you want me to kidnap Aela and give her back to the Stendars so we can do it your way, I would."

"No. That is not what I meant."

"No, it is not. I do things for a reason, Kharjo, if I don't, then why are you still loyal to me?"

Kharjo stares at me for a few moments before taking a huge swig of his mead. Having his fill, he grabs his helmet and gets off his chair and starts making his way towards the door.

"Because what you did for me, and many times after that was for a reason. You gave me a reason to believe you, so I will follow. I won't judge you now because you haven't done me wrong, and for that I am loyal," He walks pass me, putting on his helmet and keeping his back turned as he speaks. "But there are plenty of others who don't feel the same way. They see the drastic change and they don't like it."

When was the last time I truly cared about what people think about me? There are plenty of rumors and talks about me that I have become apathetic to them. Trifle things are what they talk about considering I was the one who banished Alduin. But when destruction is abated, I seem to be the center of gossips in regards to what I do now. I watch as Kharjo exits, closing the door behind him, leaving me with the rest of the inebriated Nords and their obnoxious talk of adventure or of a certain guard who took an arrow to the knee. I remember when I was very appreciative every time I'd make it to Whiterun, now it seems that I just care more about their mead than the actual city itself. With that said, I have had my fill… it's time for me to go about my business. There are some people I need to talk to.

_The Lover Stone_

I slowly slide off the Masque of Clavicus Vile letting the cool air hit my face. While the daedric artifact that adorns my face gives me clear vision, nothing is like having to set my own eyes upon the gifts I have given as a tribute. They serenade the ground adding more vibrancy in the almost dull setting of the Lover Stone. Soul gems grand and great, jewelry, enchanted blades, dragon bones… a myriad of things that I have earned, scavenged, and bought are scattered in no decorating pattern to them whatsoever, but they do their job as décor well enough. The torch I have set on one of the pillar has burned out and it takes a quick breath of flame to relight the tribute. The insignia of the lover stone is now even more prominent as I like it to be. Taking a deep breath, I let out a bellow of power towards the sky causing the surroundings to distort for a moment with the force I released. The skies are bright from all the stars but the black clouds cover them. Shortly after, the sound of thunder and rain takes over and soon the storm I have summoned is now drenching the area with its power. While keeping my eyes on the carved form of the woman within this celestial stone, I kneel down, placing the Masque beside me.

"Lover," I say. "So much blood. So much screaming… how can I be forgiven when the days of retribution are washed away with the blood of those I have slain?"

As always there is no answer. The shimmering of the trinkets, the crackling of fire getting hit by water, the waterfalls around me, and of course the storm is the only response I get….

The life of this Dragonborn is only through solitude and the will to do what is deemed justified at the moment….

**The End. For Now.**


End file.
